A Reed in the Wind: Joanna Plantagenet, Queen of Sicily

by Rachel Bard

  “I’d indeed like to take the robe off, but the doctors have ordered me to wrap myself up like a mummy and I’ve given them my promise.”

  “Yes, we’ve heard that you’ve been ill. And I suppose one must listen to the doctors. But I do think sometimes we who have actually had ailments and have recovered from them know as much as the doctors about what’s good for us. Haven’t I always said so, Maria Cristina?”

  The lady-in-waiting, perched on her chair in semi-shadow, had been watching and listening but saying nothing since she entered. She recognized her cue. With her hands folded on her cane she leaned forward.

  “You have, my lady Queen. And so often you’ve been proved right. I remember well that time when your little William was suffering from a fever, and the doctors said he should be put on a strict diet of thin broth and toasted bread, but he didn’t improve. And you were so worried until you remembered how your old nurse had cured you when you were a girl in Spain and fell sick. So you did just what she did. You gave William nourishing stews of beef and chicken and had him drink possets made of good red Spanish wine. Diluted of course. And he had a remarkable recovery.” She sat back, performance over.

  “What a happy ending to the story! Thank you, Lady Maria Cristina,” said Joanna. She asked Queen Margaret, “Was William often sick as a child?”

  “No, on the whole he was a healthy lad. His father, my husband, started him early on hunting and jousting and archery. He loved all that. I’m sure it helped him to keep strong and well. But I didn’t ask you here to talk about William. I was so grieved to hear of your illness and I thought, why not see if an old remedy I was brought up with might help? It certainly can’t do any harm—nothing but wine, water, honey and spices.”

  Before Joanna could reply a tantalizing aroma of mulled wine filled the air. The maidservant brought a jug and placed it carefully on the table. The smell was almost as intoxicating as wine itself.

  Queen Margaret poured each of them a goblet of the steaming potion. “As I remember, you like only a little cinnamon?” she asked Lady Maria Cristina. The latter nodded. The queen stirred a small spoonful of the spice into her goblet.

  In her own, Margaret grated some nutmeg and stirred in cinnamon.

  “But for you, Joanna, we’ll do it just as my old nurse did—with all three, cloves as well as the others,” and she proceeded to measure small spoonfuls of the powdered spices and a generous grating of nutmeg into the third goblet. Joanna was looking doubtful. She picked it up and brought it toward her nose. She put it down.

  “It smells so good! But I’d better not drink it. I’ve been told I should avoid wine for the time being.”

  “Nonsense! It’s perfectly harmless, mostly water. And I know for a fact it’s safe for delicate stomachs. Which is what you apparently have.”

  Margaret was getting irritated. Why was the silly girl being so fussy?

  Joanna bent her head and stared at her folded hands in her lap, as though in thought. She came to a decision. She raised her eyes to look at the old queen, whose face was not quite so benevolent now.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this and I was just waiting for the chance. So I’m glad you’ve asked me to come see you. You see, we’ve known for some time why I’ve been unwell. It’s not at all mysterious. I’m going to be a mother, and you’ll be a grandmother!”

  If she expected crows of delight and maybe a hug, she was sadly disappointed. Queen Margaret stared at her in stunned silence. She looked at Lady Maria Cristina, whose face was a thinner, craggier version of her own. Things were not working out as they’d planned.

  She completely forgot her resolve to be nice.

  “Well! Aren’t you the crafty little one! Whose idea was it to keep it a secret? Not William’s, I don’t think. You must have persuaded him not to tell anyone, not even his own mother, just out of vanity. You didn’t want people staring and whispering. No wonder you’ve been wearing those floppy cloaks that hide everything.”

  She snatched up her goblet and drained half the wine. She looked angrily at Joanna. The girl was crying and trying to tell her something while the tears ran down her cheeks.

  “You don’t understand. I wanted to tell you but William kept saying, not yet. He’s so superstitious, he wanted to wait to announce it until we were sure I was going to get through the pregnancy all right. But I’m in my seventh month now and really feeling fine. I did so hope you’d be glad to have the news.” She found a handkerchief in her pocket and wiped her eyes. “I think I’d better leave now.”

  Queen Margaret eyed Joanna’s untasted wine. Maybe all was not lost. But she’d have to turn honey-toned again.

  “Well well, I suppose I was hasty to get so upset. You must forgive me. It was such a surprise, I hardly knew what I was saying. Please don’t go yet. Of course I’ll be happy to be a grandmother. It will take me back to the days when my William was a baby. Why don’t we drink a little toast to the child—and of course to your health?”

  Joanna looked uncertain. ”I suppose just a few sips won’t hurt,” she said.

  “Of course not. You too, Maria Cristina. Now let us all drink to the future of the royal house of Sicily!”

  Joanna reached for her goblet but before she could pick it up the door burst open. Startled, she turned to see who it was. Her arm upset the goblet, and the wine spread over Queen Margaret’s precious tablecloth, dripped onto her white damask skirt and down to her costly Persian carpet.

  Alan had pushed past the page and stood inside the door. His face, usually so amiable, looked uncommonly stern.

  “Queen Joanna, I’m sent by Lady Marian to see you back to your chamber. The king is on his way and he’ll expect to find you there.”

  Joanna rose and looked in dismay at the mess she’d made. The old queen was looking at it too. Joanna’s tears flowed again.

  “I’m so very, very sorry. Oh dear, how could I be so clumsy?”

  “How could you indeed! Go now, go.” Margaret was so furious at how her careful plans had been shattered that she could hardly speak. She sank deeper into her cushions and began to mutter and mumble. “Idiot girl. Stupid. Stubborn.”

  Joanna, hurrying out with Alan, heard the mumbling but not the words.

  Lady Maria Cristina hobbled away to find the maid to bring cloths to mop up the wine, and salt to sprinkle on the rug. Queen Margaret, still sputtering, retired to change her gown.

  Half an hour later the two old cronies settled down by the fire in the queen’s bedchamber to assess the situation. Margaret had put on a black gown to suit her mood.

  “A disaster, that’s what it is. All my planning, for nothing.”

  “We’ll never get her to come back now.”

  “I can hardly remember what I said. Was I quite unkind?”

  “I’m afraid you were.”

  “Well, she deserved it, the ninny. Making all that fuss about drinking a little wine. And then spilling it, after I’d been so clever with the poison.”

  “Yes, true. We’ll just have to think of something else. Even if she does come back she’ll be suspicious if we try again to get her to disobey her doctors.”

  They sat there like a pair of crows croaking to each other about their chances of finding a mouse or a baby bird for dinner. Queen Margaret fell to grumbling to herself. Maria Cristina sat looking at the fire, waiting for her lady to make sense again. It didn’t take long.

  “I have it!” she exclaimed. “Maybe, Maria, this was all for the best. Really, the news that there’s a baby on the way changes everything. If I take charge of raising him maybe I’ll get some respect again in the court!”

  “But how could you… Joanna wouldn’t …”

  The queen paid no attention.

  “They’ll see that I’m still someone to be reckoned with, just like the old days!” She chortled. “That’ll show them! And I’ll bring this child up right, not the way that nincompoop of a girl would.”

  “But my lady, surely Joanna would nev
er give up her baby!”

  “Of course she wouldn’t, you stupid old thing. But she won’t be here. And King William will be glad enough to turn the child over to me, mark my words.”

  Maria Cristina still looked bewildered. Her powers of contriving mischief lagged seriously behind her lady’s.

  “Don’t you see? As soon as the child is born, we’ll find a way to get rid of Joanna. It shouldn’t be hard. Everything will be in such a state of confusion. Nobody will suspect anything; women so often die in childbirth.”

  “Oh yes! They do!” Maria Cristina had begun to understand.

  “And everybody will be grateful when I offer to take charge of the baby.”

  “How kind of you, my lady! To sacrifice your own comfort in your old age, to care for that poor little motherless child.”

  The two old crows had found their prey. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the moment to swoop down on it.

  Chapter 28

  Relations between the king and queen of Sicily turned frosty after the queen’s impromptu visit to her mother-in-law.

  Alan told William immediately what had happened. William arrived in Joanna’s chamber shortly after her own return. He planted himself before the divan where she was sitting, his feet firmly together and arms folded. He was so cross that he forgot to be civil. In fact, he very nearly shouted. Joanna had never heard him shout.

  “You deliberately ignored my orders, Joanna. You went out without an escort and without Lady Marian’s knowledge.”

  “But William…”

  “Furthermore, of all places, you went to my mother’s. We’ve talked about this, Joanna. She resents you and she’s erratic enough in her behavior not to be trusted. You were foolhardy to place yourself in what might have been a dangerous situation.”

  “No, I…”

  “Let me finish, please. Most serious of all, you not only took a chance on your own safety, you endangered our unborn child. Don’t you care? Have you no idea how important it is for me to have an heir? Sicily’s future depends on an orderly succession. If anything happened to the child—and to you, of course—there’d be no lack of other claimants to the throne to start maneuvering. I hope, Joanna, that you’re sorry for your foolish behavior.” He stopped for breath.

  Joanna, looking about as penitent as a pugnacious bulldog, leaped in.

  “I don’t agree that I was foolish. This was the first time in all my years here that Queen Margaret has made an overture to me. You apparently don’t understand how it’s hurt me all this time that your mother never accepted me and that we couldn’t be friends. So when I saw a chance to change all that of course I welcomed her invitation. And Lady Marian knew where I’d gone, I sent word to her. I didn’t see why I had to have Alan come with me, since it was only to the other side of the palace and Lady Maria Cristina was with me.”

  “Nevertheless…”

  “And William, nothing terrible happened. She was really quite kind and cordial, except for a couple of times when she flew into a bit of a rage. But she’s always doing that, and she got over it right away, except maybe right at the end.”

  “But Joanna…”

  “Now let me finish.” She stood up and faced him, with her hands straight down at her sides and her fists clenched. Her eyes were flashing and her cheeks were flushed with agitation. “It’s not fair to say I don’t care about the baby. I care terribly. I’ve been as good as I can be to make sure nothing goes wrong. I look forward to the birth of our child more than I’ve ever looked forward to anything in my life.”

  They stared at each other. Joanna was as surprised as William at her vehemence. She’d never even argued with him, much less quarreled. She sank onto the divan. After a moment he sat beside her. He put his arm around her.

  “My love, we’ve both been hasty. I’m sorry I spoke so harshly. Let us mend matters. I want you to tell me in detail everything that happened this afternoon. Then we’ll decide whether there was, or will be, any threat to you and the child.”

  She complied, from Maria Cristina’s arrival at her door to Alan’s appearance at the queen’s. William questioned her closely about the wine.

  “So all the wine came from the same pitcher, but each of you had a different selection of spices in your serving?”

  “Yes—or would have had if I hadn’t spilled mine and set the queen off on another tantrum.” She grimaced in mortification at what she’d done.

  “And my mother doled out those spices and stirred them into each goblet?”

  “Yes. They were in little bowls in front of her.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “What do you mean, ‘hmmm’?”

  He became, if possible, even more serious. His eyes darkened and his gaze grew more penetrating as he looked at her for a moment, choosing his words.

  “Joanna, I must talk to you now about a subject I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to discuss. Do you remember, not long after we were married, when you were cruelly maligned in graffiti you saw on the walls in the city? And how I promised to find out who was responsible, and I discovered that my mother and Sir Matthew of Ajello were behind it?”

  “Yes, it was terribly upsetting. I hated it. But you must have taken care of it because the ugly messages disappeared and there haven’t been any since.”

  “No, thank God. But I didn’t tell you the whole story at the time. You were still very young and I wanted to shelter you from evil and unpleasantness. When we were looking into the source of the graffiti we discovered that my mother had asked Sir Matthew to find men who could be hired as assassins. And he did.”

  She caught her breath. “You mean…?”

  “Yes, my love. We tracked the men down and imprisoned them. I think it was then that my mother’s mental state really began to deteriorate into madness. I reasoned with her and though she expressed remorse for what she and Sir Matthew had done, I never quite knew what she was really thinking. Fortunately, she lost her ally. When I threatened to banish Sir Matthew he did a complete turnaround, promised me faithfully to call a halt to his conniving with my mother, and has in that respect at least been a loyal chancellor; though we don’t always see eye to eye on other subjects.”

  “And why are you telling me all this now?” But she was beginning to guess why. She tensed.

  “You’ve grown up. I owe it to you, as my wife and the mother of my child, to talk to you as an adult, freely and frankly, about everything that concerns us both.”

  She waited.

  “My love, it’s quite possible, though it grieves me to even think it, that my mother hasn’t changed. I believe she meant to give you poisoned wine.”

  Joanna gasped. It was as though a monstrous cold wave had washed over her. Somebody wanted to kill her! She couldn’t think, she could only yield to the numbness of terror.

  She’d never felt such fear. Even during the worst storms and perils of the voyage to Sicily, when she was convinced her life was coming to an end, she’d still put her trust in God and prayed to him to be merciful to her and to all on the ship. But if he could not spare them, “Thy will be done,” she’d prayed.

  Now it wasn’t a matter of God’s will but the deadly intrigues of man—or rather, of woman.

  Later that afternoon Alan Broadshares, Joanna’s bodyguard, met her maid, Mary, for a chat in a nook just outside the palace kitchens. When they had time, uncle and niece came here to relax, to talk of home and family and to gossip about goings-on in the palace.

  There was room for only one bench in their cranny and there was a great deal of noise from next door—raised voices, spoons banging against metal cauldrons, logs dropped heavily, squawks from indignant fowl being dragged by the neck. But that was why they liked the spot. Nobody could intrude on their privacy, and nobody could hear what they said. Besides, the kitchen with its ready supply of wine was handy, in case Sir Alan felt a pang of thirst.

  On this particular afternoon Queen Joanna’s daring foray into enemy territory was on both their minds. They co
mpared notes.

  “Of course I went to tell the king, the minute I got the queen safely back,” said Sir Alan. “I didn’t want to be blamed for letting her go about unescorted.”

  “But nobody could think it was your fault, uncle, when she didn’t send for you or tell you what she was up to.”

  “True. And as it turned out, the king didn’t go after me very hard. I fancy he didn’t let Lady Marian off so easy though.”

  “Or Queen Joanna either. Uncle, you should have heard the talking-to he gave her and how she answered back!” Her face was awestruck with the memory.

  “Do you mean to tell me, Mary, that you were there?”

  “Well, not exactly. I’d taken a load of linens to the washerwoman, and as I came back into the queen’s antechamber I heard the king in the next room. He must have just come in through her private entrance. I’ve never heard him so loud or so angry. He wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise. Then she started in on him, defending herself, every bit as cross as he was. I didn’t know what to do. The door was ajar but I didn’t dare close it, they’d have noticed. So I had to stand there, listening in spite of myself.”

  “Who won?”

  “If it were up to me, I’d say the queen. But all of a sudden they stopped shouting at each other and began murmuring. I couldn’t make out any more and I kept quiet until King William left. Then I pretended I’d only just arrived and went on into the queen’s chamber. She was sitting there, looking dazed. She looked up at me as though she didn’t recognize me. I don’t know what was the matter and I still don’t. It couldn’t have been because of the quarrel. I distinctly heard King William say very kindly as he left, “But you are not to worry, my love. I’ll deal with this. Now rest.”

  Sir Alan pursed his lips, stroked his grizzled beard and furrowed his brow. “It’s a puzzlement, that’s what it is.” He went out to get a mug of wine to lubricate his thinking capabilities.

  But after draining the mug he was no closer to figuring out the puzzlement.